


Paint

by svecounia



Series: Makeup Series [3]
Category: KÀ - Cirque du Soleil
Genre: F/M, Fluff, and a lil light and wistful angst for good measure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26057617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svecounia/pseuds/svecounia
Summary: The Twin Sister uses the Counselor's Son as a canvas.
Relationships: Counselor's Son/Twin Sister (Kà)
Series: Makeup Series [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1891621
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Paint

"You're wasting it."

"There's plenty more."

Jimaya tipped his face to the side with the end of her brush and Rensai complied without resistance. He stared at the tatami edging in silence. Of course there was plenty more. The Imperial City always had more. The airiness in her voice spoke of a lifetime of abundance and he wondered why the sound of it hooked in his mind the way it did. He'd never wanted for anything, either. Not painfully. Not in the Den and not really even now, with the war ended and the mountain sealed far behind him for better or worse. Jimaya blew gently on his cheek to dry the white she'd painted there and the thought fluttered from his mind.

"You see? If you used less you wouldn't have to do that."

Jimaya hummed thoughtfully. "I wonder if I skip your lips you'll be as silent as you'll look."

Rensai tugged her closer until she had to lean her hands on his chest to keep from falling into him. "Skip my lips?" His nose brushed hers and he smiled, just out of her reach. "You couldn't bear it."

"I'll do my best," Jimaya said dryly and pushed his face away, and he laughed. She straightened up on her knees to resume her work but he kept his arms looped around her, fingers laced behind her back. The sweep of her brush slid gentle and smooth across his skin, a cool, delicate tickle. He could have better appreciated her careful attentions if he closed his eyes, but it was far more fun to stare her down and dare her to look back. She did an admirable job of avoiding his gaze – she'd had ample time to practice by now – but heat was rising in her cheeks and even her own pale makeup couldn't hide it. Behind the sharp white edges, rosy red had begun to burn. 

"Close your eyes," she said. "I'll do those, then your brows."

Cheater. But Rensai obeyed, and when a softer brush touched the corner of his eye he realized she was giving him Imperial war paint after all. Makeup, he corrected himself – not war paint. That was an important distinction for them. More blending and fewer sharp peaks. There was a metaphor there but the idea of exploring it made him want to gag. 

Of far more interest to him was how she reacted to the slight lifting of his chin when silence stretched too long between them. When she hesitated, he gently pushed aside her brush to take her hand in his own and wait, eyes closed as she had asked. As if guided by gravity, Jimaya met him in a kiss. It was light and lingering, not enough to smear her hard work nor stamp it across her own lips, but plenty to let him bask in her warmth for more than a few moments. He just caught her mouth with the tip of his tongue as she drew away and relished the tiny intake of breath it won him. She shifted in his lap.

"You're distracting me," she whispered.

"Someone as disciplined as you?" He drew close but paused just shy of kissing her again. "That's very flattering."

Jimaya drew another breath, then turned away and took up the pot of red. 

"Your tattoos." She tilted her head to the side, studying them, and traced a finger alongside his heart where blank skin ended and ink began. "A bit one-note, aren't they?"

"That's less flattering." But Rensai was watching her, captivated. He leaned back on his hands as she dipped her index and middle finger into the pigment.

"What if you were to…"

She swiped her fingers across his collarbone. A vivid streak of scarlet bloomed in their wake and Rensai tried not to shiver beneath it, beneath her mark, even as his nerves came alive beneath her touch. She painted a twin on the other side then drew back to evaluate her work, brow knitted in consideration. Rensai could do nothing but stare.

"Do you like it?"

"Very much," he breathed.

Jimaya nodded in agreement but apparently her vision demanded more: she shifted again and settled a leg on either side of his hips. Rensai sucked in a breath and rocked gently against her, but Jimaya was not to be distracted. She touched her fingers to the hollow of his throat and drew them slowly, agonizingly downward, pulling a line from neck to sternum to torso until the color finally faded, its languid journey from scarlet to flesh cut short. His heartbeat thudded beneath her fingertips. She was the one staring him down now, he was the one paralyzed under her gaze. Crimson bisected his chest when at last she withdrew. He took her hand and kissed her fingertips, nipping at the two still stained red.

"Is this how you want me?" he asked softly. "Cracked open? Laid bare?"

"For as long as you'll allow it," she said. Her eyes gleamed honey gold in the lamplight.

He did allow it. He took her face in his hands to kiss her properly, and when he laid back he dragged her down with him. Heat and friction smeared her handiwork. 

Jimaya traced the edges of the blurred lines later, her head resting on Rensai's chest while he pulled his fingers through her tangled hair. 

"I didn't get to finish," she sighed. Rensai raised his eyebrows.

"That's not what I heard."

"I meant your makeup and you know it." She shot him a heatless scowl and he met it with a smile. Jimaya settled her head back down. "And you should do mine too. I want to know what I look like with Denborn war paint."

His hand stilled. Another time, another floor, another face flitted through his mind with the unexpected chill of an unseasonable breeze. He stared at the tatami edging again as some small piece of him that she'd eased open creaked closer together once more. It was a long moment before he resumed playing with her hair.

"Maybe another time."

**Author's Note:**

> Some offensively beautiful art for this fic lives [here](https://studiokawaii.tumblr.com/post/627616185886900224/guess-what-yeah-once-more-based-on-sweepseven-s). A+M, you're the worlds greatest, as per.


End file.
